


Silence

by fringante



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9874601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringante/pseuds/fringante
Summary: After a rough night, Asuma and Shikamaru wake up together, and Shikamaru talks about a troublesome memory for the first time. Implied Yaoi. Also just let's pretend Asuma never died and wasn't involved with Kurenai. Thanks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first fanfic ever, I wrote it in 2011 and haven't written anything since. But I'm slowly getting back into the fandom!

I.

When he awoke, it took him a few seconds to realize he was actually in his own apartment, in his own bed.

He was feeling a little dim, last night's sake clearly not completely out of his system, and his eyes seemed to refuse to get used to the darkness as quickly as he wanted them to. Blinking, he lazily turned his heavy-feeling head to the left, trying to focus on the slowly breathing man lying beside him, and for once, surprisingly not snoring. Trying to remember the events of last night, he watched his lover. He had his back turned; the dark-green sheets covering him almost up to his shoulders, skin reddened from the heat of the bed. His beard looked untended with his dark brown hair in the usual stubborn mess. Shikamaru moved closer to him, sliding an arm under the blanket and around his waist, gripping the fabric of his black cotton-shirt and burying his face in his neck.

Asuma's body twitched. Humming softly, eyes still closed, he mumbled sleepily, "What time is it?"

Speaking with his lips pressed against Asuma's hot and slightly sweaty skin, Shikamaru replied, "I don't care."

They kept lying there, motionless and silent; both their eyes now open. Shikamaru inhaled Asuma's dark scent once again, then hugged him tightly, yawned enthusiastically and let go of him. Groaning, he sat up, blinked once, twice, and decided to get out of bed, but not without Asuma protesting half-heartedly, "Why?"

Fighting off the duvet, Shikamaru got up, noticing he wore nothing but his dark blue boxers. His shins were feeling mellow, his breath tasted disgusting, and his vision turned black for a second. He stretched and cursed himself for having this familiar feeling after such a long time. It had been too goddamn obvious that a 'small party' organized by Gai-san "to celebrate their youthfulness, because none of them would ever be this young and beautiful again" would never end well. Hangover-wise, at least.

Asuma had talked him into accompanying him because "You can't stay inside all day," promising he'd get a nice little reward afterwards. He'd gotten shit.

The youngest man of the Nara clan shook his head then turned towards the window. His eyes had decided to obey him, opening slowly, and for a few minutes he just stood there watching the clouds. They were barely clearer than the dark-blue sky, moving oh-so slowly and not caring about anything at all. Keeping his gaze locked on them, he scratched his upper arm and yawned again.

"Fluffy, indifferent bastards," he muttered.

Taking a step toward the window, Shikamaru trod on a piece of his shogi game - the pawn - and a sharp pain shot through his right heel. Not even bothering to wonder why the hell all 40 of them were scattered across the floor, he kicked it away and glared after it. He then reached for the windowsill, opened the two sashes and let a cold breeze of air embrace him.

 _"Aahhh"_ He breathed out.

II.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, the sheets crumpled under his body, with a cup of hot coffee between his fingers and a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, Shikamaru absent-mindedly gazed at Asuma and listened to the birds.

"Stop staring at me," Asuma muttered, his was voice deep from sleep and the leftovers of alcohol.

Shikamaru smirked, took the cigarette between his index and middle fingers and drank a sip of coffee, "You've been awake for a while."

"Who could sleep with these birds singing, as if there's anything to sing about. Damn you, crazy mockingbirds." He lifted his fist, just to let it fall limply back against the mattress a second later.

Placing the steaming cup on the nightstand and putting out his cigarette in the freshly emptied ashtray, Shikamaru lay back next to his lover, crossing his arms behind his head. "I like listening to them. It's calming."

"Good for you. _I_ need _silence_ to sleep."

Asuma really was obnoxious with a hangover. It didn't happen often, though, and Shikamaru didn't care very much anyway. Actually, this was only the second time he'd seen him in this state. The first time had been the morning after Gai-sensei's 40th birthday party. Asuma had forbidden him to talk about that night ever again.

"If you listen closely, you can even hear the wind moving the clouds. I just couldn't stand the silence this morning," the Nara said. "Unpleasant memories," he added with a theatrical and sarcastic voice.

Asuma turned around to face his lover, partly opening his heavy-lidded eyes. "What is it?"

Shikamaru smiled weakly. This was what he hated most about his own personal _mornings after;_ he got all emotional and whiney, and it always made Asuma take care of him.

Nevertheless, the older man always managed to keep Shikamaru from feeling like a pitiful little boy, comforting him as best he could. He was understanding, even if not always able to relate to him. He didn't ask many questions and didn't interrupt Shikamaru being silent now and then between talking. And it was completely fine this way. It was all he could do, more than he was expected to, and in the end, Shikamaru was thankful. He hated himself for being so troublesome to his most precious person, but still, he was thankful.

"Ah, just my troublesome mother."

Shikamaru reached for the pack of cigarettes he and Asuma shared, but the Sarutobi heir caught his hand, saying, "You smoke too much." He took the pack and carefully let go of the lean palm. "Keep talking."

"You know my mother," Shikamaru said, underlining it with a sigh. He crossed his arms behind his head again, looking up at the ceiling where the small lagoon outside the window was weakly reflected.

Asuma took a cigarette out of the white and red pack. "You told me about her." Reaching for the metal lighter that lay on the bed between his and Shikamaru's body, Asuma rolled onto his back.

"It was her worst punishment, if you ask me. She used to get angry, being the troublesome woman she was. Used to shout and call me lazy."

"You _are_ lazy."

"Yeah, and you smoke too much. Well. You know what I'm getting at. My father never stood up to her, neither did I - it was such a drag." He punched against the mattress they were lying on and frowned.

Asuma lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply, then blew out the smoke in a strait, grey-blue cloud.

"But it was way worse when she just started to go silent. She'd be quiet for days and days. You could talk to her and get no reply. My father, however, never even tried." Using his theatrical voice again, he added, "And so it became silent at the Nara's home for a week." He took the cigarette from between his former sensei's fingers and took a drag. "And I wouldn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing just how much I hated this particular silence. I wouldn't invite friends over or anything to fill it. So whenever I was in my room, I just used to open the window and listen. It was better than silence and better than Ino-san babbling anyway."

Asuma took the cigarette back. After a short while, he said, "I always thought you were angry when you were a kid."

"Was it any wonder?" Shikamaru scoffed, his voice bitter.

Asuma's brown eyes still looked tired, but turned alert at that. He took some time again to answer, eyeing the slender but toned body of his young lover, his pale skin. His features. Those still frowning eyes which were even darker now than even Asuma's. His stomach folded just a little bit above his boxers' edge and his fingers were dug into the sheets. Asuma put the cigarette back between his lips again.

"No," he replied, "it sure as hell wasn't." He inhaled the toxic smoke once more and gave the cigarette back to his former student who aggressively put it out.

Asuma reached out with one dark-haired tanned arm, pulling his lover close to him.

"What the- what are you doing? I don't... you don't have to comfort me!" Shikamaru tried to push the older man away, but really, he didn't put any effort into it.

"No, but I think I should." He kept holding him tight.

"Really, you're troublesome, sensei."

He relaxed.

III.

They didn't leave Shikamaru's apartment that day.

After some slow, messy but intense morning-sex, they fell asleep for a few more hours, back to back. Shikamaru later made some fresh coffee and picked up the pieces of his shogi game. Sometimes, he fought his idleness, just as a small thank you. He didn't know if Asuma understood it, though. It was the most he could manage.

"I hate sake," Asuma said.

"Didn't seem like it yesterday," Shikamaru quipped.

They lazily played a few parties, Shikamaru winning, Asuma cursing. The rest of the day was spent complaining about their headaches, lying on the wooden apartment floor with a blanket; windows wide open, watching the clouds, and Shikamaru's head in Asuma's lap.

And actually, he hadn't felt this good in a long time.


End file.
